


Orphans

by Alexicon, AllumetteRouge (RedRaidingHood)



Series: Dynamic Duo Week 2016 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mentioned Character Death, The Dark Side of Fluff, dynamic duo week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:12:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7775629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexicon/pseuds/Alexicon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRaidingHood/pseuds/AllumetteRouge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Dynamic Duo Week: Day 7 - "I'm trying really hard to pretend I don't like this.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orphans

**Author's Note:**

> Written by AllumetteRouge!  
> Art drawn by Alexicon.

Damian had never met his father. For years, he had learned all there was about the man: his mannerisms and his disguises -- even the slightest twitch of his father’s pinky was no mystery to the child. He had trained for this day, had done everything in his might to become worthy of being the son of Batman. Yet it was the Dark Knight who had not been prepared for them. For Talia’s man-bat commandos.

The details were blurry, but when Damian woke in a hospital bed, a stranger beside him, he knew he would never meet his father.

“Don’t move.” The man jerked into action, gently guiding Damian back to the mattress.

Damian knew him, too. The first Robin. The child his father had adopted but who no longer played at being his son. This was another brat who had taken up Damian’s rightful place -- not that it mattered anymore.

Knowing it was what his father deserved and what his mother expected, he struggled against the gentle hold Dick Grayson had on him.

Things should have been different. Batman should not have died.

“I have to avenge him. He was my father,” Damian croaked, the words ripping at this throat.

“There’s no one to avenge,” Grayson told him carefully.

“Then tell me, who killed him? Who’s my mark, my mission?” he screamed against the pain in his chest. Damian swallowed against the desert of glass in his throat to get the words out. He struggled, though his limbs were pathetically weak, but he already knew the answer from the look in Grayson’s eyes.

And Damian remembered the explosion his mother had set off, remembered her disappointment and her resolution to follow her beloved. But he couldn’t accept that. Without his mother he had no place; without his father, he had no mission. So what was he going to do?

Grayson checked on the IV plugged into Damian’s arm. Damian didn’t feel his touch. Watching the man go through the motions numbly, he opened his mouth again and didn’t care, when he finally got the question out, about the broken sound of his voice or the wetness running down his cheeks.

“Why couldn’t I be dead?”

* * *

New York was nice, although Grayson’s taste in apartments was questionable. Grayson’s taste in jobs was less so. Damian loved both the museum and the gym, no matter how jealous he became of the children Grayson trained while Damian was only allowed to do his physical therapy. He loved it anyway.

New York was different and often senseless, though. They gave him no other mission than recovering, and it took a while for Damian to get over his suspicions. But Grayson really didn’t want anything else from him. 

“And school.”

“And school.” Damian rolled his eyes, stuffing more chips in his mouth before he switched the channel. 

Grayson let himself fall on the sofa next to him, a warmed-up dish in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. They had easily fallen into this rhythm, almost too easily. Yet here in New York, neither was reminded of their past, and Damian did his best not to drag up any of Grayson’s memories either. He already knew everything about his father; there was no reason to ask and put the other in a bad mood.

School on the other hand... that would be a bit of a fight, though he was sure enough he could win the man over and let him be homeschooled. Not that Damian didn’t know everything he needed to know, of course.

Settling on the news channel, both perked up at the mention of Batman, taking care of Gotham as always. Grayson chewed on his lip, a mix of nostalgia and fondness on his face that irritated Damian intensely. Grayson was nice. He should just forget those other people and move on with his life. Be happy.

“‘Batman’ is still a strange moniker for a girl,” he chided, trying to get Grayson’s attention at least on the nicer memories. Grayson gave him a smile.

“And Nightwing used to wear blue.”

Smiles were good. Damian liked his smiles and he liked it even better when he was the reason Grayson smiled. It felt like an accomplishment. Like this was his mission; making Grayson as happy as the man made him.

They watched the blurb in silence. Watched as Cain and Drake tore through their city and for a moment, Damian hated them. Hated that they reminded Grayson of his own time living there. Of the fallen Knight that everyone but Damian wanted to remember.

* * *

It was cold, but Grayson had promised him a meal at a nice little restaurant they knew just around the corner... after their visit to Bruce Wayne’s grave. It was boring, really: just standing there, and watching Grayson reminiscence.

A year had gone by and Damian’s injuries were almost healed. A year since he had lost his mother, his place in the world and everything had lost all sense. He had no mission anymore, no reason to live now.

Yet there had been this strange man who had lost his father on the same day. A man Damian had come to love like he had only loved Talia before. It had taken time, but once Damian realized his life was worth so much more now because of this man -- Damian had started to like that day. That first day he had left behind his old life for one shared with Grayson. A life that he actually enjoyed -- school was a bother, but it did allow him to choose his own destiny this time. His own missions. And all this because for once, Talia had overestimated her Dark Knight.

Taking Grayson’s hand, Damian got his attention. “Let’s go. Standing here getting pneumonia doesn’t bring him back.”

Grayson hummed, his hand squeezing Damian’s. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t,” the boy snorted, unable to suppress a smile. “But I can’t let father’s effort to keep you alive go to waste now that he’s no longer around to do it himself.”

Grayson laughed, suddenly falling to his knees and hugging him close.

Damian didn’t mind. He liked Grayson’s hugs. It was nice being needed, and even nicer to be able to return the all the love and patience he had been given since the day they met at the hospital.

When they finally walked into the restaurant, the familiar smell of fresh quiche welcoming them, Damian caught his brother smiling contently.

Damian had never known his father and it was getting harder and harder to shove away the guilt -- the guilt of knowing he should mourn his father or at least miss his mother -- but he didn’t. Neither Batman nor the League could have given him this, he knew. Neither his father nor his mother would have been able to do for him what Dick Grayson had done. And so Damian pretended to understand Grayson’s pain, pretended to miss the parents that had been replaced by someone so much better. It was hard, but for Grayson, he knew he could do it.

Damian could pretend not to like being an orphan.

**Author's Note:**

> Find us on tumblr:
> 
>   * [Alexicon](http://lexiconallie.tumblr.com)
>   * [AllumetteRouge](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com)
> 

> 
> And [here's](http://lexiconallie.tumblr.com/post/148972226208/dynamic-duo-week-day-7-im-trying-really-hard) the art!


End file.
